


Smile

by Shiba_K



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blindness, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Post-Episode AU: s10e05 Oxygen, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13233561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiba_K/pseuds/Shiba_K
Summary: When he needs her the most, she will always find her way back to him.





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate ending to Oxygen. Because I needed some blind!Doctor hurt/comfort. 
> 
> I haven't yet had time to check for any mistakes. Apologies.

47 steps.

There were 47 steps on the stairs from the landing on the second floor of the university’s south wing leading up to his office. 

47 steps that were taken a fraction slower than two weeks ago. 47 steps that were now taken with a hand on the rail for guidance. 

While he could rely on his excellent muscle memory, in the last fifty years he had apparently failed to notice the slight raise of one of the stones used to make the 32nd step which had resulted in another bruised shin and a cut on his chin when had he failed to catch himself on time. 

His jaw clenched at the memory and he could feel the angry frustration bubble up inside him as he took another step. 

45, 46, 47. 

Exhaling, he stopped in front of his office door for a moment, trying to push down the pointless frustration that was becoming his constant companion. It would only make him angrier and that resulted in more accidents as his movements became jerky. And that had already led to more shouting at Bill and Nardole. The latter usually deserved it, but he always regretted shouting at Bill. She would grow quiet and then slip away when she thought he wouldn’t notice. It didn’t take a genius to understand why, and that only served to make him feel even guiltier for yelling. 

It took him two tries before his left hand closed around the door handle. The sonic sunglasses helped to distinguish basic shapes of objects and people, but he needed to be looking directly at something for it to work as the peripheral vision remained blurry and often indistinct. 

Well, he could always work on improving that since there was little else he could do to fix his blindness. 

Blind. 

The sigh that left him was filled with defeat. 

He had become useless and a burden, nothing more than a blind, old man who had to grope around for five minutes to find a door handle. 

Wearily, he rested his forehead against the worn wood of his door and closed his eyes. It was in moments like these that he missed her the most. His Clara, always there to comfort him, ease his troubled mind and soul and when he needed it, give him a good kick in the ass to stop him feeling sorry for himself and get back up again. 

But she wasn’t there, couldn’t be there, and so he would just have to do it himself. 

The handle turned with a metallic clank and the door swung open with a high-pitched creaking sound of rusty hinges that made him wince. He should probably get that fixed, especially now that his hearing had become more acute. 

He took a tired step into his office, scrubbing a hand over his face pushing his sonic shades up to his forehead only to stop dead in his tracks. 

Carefully, he sniffed the air a few times and resettled the shades over his nose, scanning the room. 

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary: his desk was littered with piles of papers waiting to be graded, a few alien artifacts lying on the shelves and the piles of books neatly stacked against the walls, even the TARDIS was in the exact same spot when he had left her. 

And yet… He could _feel_ it, smell it in the air of the room: residual time energy. Someone, or something had traveled through time in this very room.

He swiveled around to face the TARDIS. 

‘Nardole, I swear, if you took my TARDIS to visit one of those ex-girlfriends you claim to have, I will personally detach your head!’ 

Silence was his only answer. 

‘Bill?’ he tried more softly this time. 

Still nothing. 

Now he knew that something was amiss and it sent a cold shiver down his spine. It was too quiet, too calm. 

He tried one last time: ‘Missy, joy-riding does not fall under the list of acceptable things, we have discussed this.’

His right hand reached inside his jacket, searching for his sonic screwdriver for several seconds before he remembered he had left it on the TARDIS console after trying to fit a new upgrade to it. 

Something cold gripped his hearts. Fear. It spiked his hearts’ rate and caused his muscles to tense, ready to spring into action. He nearly did when the TARDIS’ door swung open and out stepped a figure. Out of precaution he took a step back. 

His sunglasses immediately provided a read-out of the intruder: female, 5 ft 1, 119 lbs, 37,1°. Age: unknown. Heart rate: none. And, where those muffled sniffles?

5 foot 1 and crying. He never stood a chance.

His sightless eyes widened behind black sunglasses as he stared at the figure that remained standing just outside his ship as if they were unsure whether they should step forward or not.

‘No, nononono, this is not possible, you shouldn’t, it can’t be, you…’ a rush of words burst forth from his lips at the same time as a tsunami of emotions broke free from where they had been so carefully hidden away that it left him gasping. He tried desperately not to, afraid that all of this might be a hallucination or a dream, but hope, the very last thing to die, forced her name to tumble from his lips in a twisted and desperate half-prayer, half-beg: 

‘Clara, oh my Clara.’

That was all it took for her to bolt forward and fling herself into his arms, a choked sob that resembled his name echoing in the silent room. 

Luckily his desk was just behind them or they would have likely fallen as the Doctor lost his balance under Clara’s sudden embrace. Supported by the sturdy desk, he wrapped his arms around the shaking frame of Clara and buried his face in the crook of her neck where his own, silent tears slid down his cheeks. 

Eventually Clara pushed herself away from him just enough so as to be able to peer up to his face. He immediately tried to look away, but a gentle hand on his cheek stopped him. 

‘Doctor,’ she whispered his name, and from her voice alone he could hear her sad smile and it pained him that even after all this time all he seemed able to do was make her sad. 

He lowered his head in shame. 

With infinite tenderness, Clara lifted his head up, her other hand joining its twin as she caressed his cheeks. 

‘Is it true then?’ she asked quietly. 

‘That I am blind?’ he replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Breaking away from her touch was difficult after having been denied it for so long, but as comforting as it was, it was also cruel.

Fate always managed to find new and torturous ways to remind him of what he had lost. To finally have his Clara back and remembering her, but not be able to see her smile, even if sad… 

He could feel her eyes on him as he made his way to his chair, one hand trailing along the edges of his desk for guidance. He knew she would follow him, concern and worry coming from her in waves. 

‘How did you even find me?’ he asked with his head held between his hands and elbows resting on the wooden desk. 

Clara kneeled next to him, though she refrained from touching him, knowing that right now it would more likely have the opposite effect. 

‘I ah… I didn’t. A short, bald man and a girl with crazy space hair found me actually. He was rather rude, but the girl-’ ‘Bill, her name is Bill,’ he interjected. Finally, she saw a tiny smile tug at the corner of his lips and it warmed her heart to see it. ‘Right, Bill, she, she was nice, she told me what happened. On the space station. She practically begged me to come back with them because you needed my help.’ 

For a moment Clara became lost in the strange meeting that had taken place only a few hours ago.

_‘You- you’re Clara, right? The Clara? The woman he keeps talking about in his sleep? Coz you see, he would swear he never sleeps, but I caught him after class a few times, napping, and sometimes he says your name and he just smiles, but now he’s hurt and-’_

It had been a flurry of words and gesticulations and at one point she had to remind Bill to breathe. It was then that the young woman had looked at her imploringly, distraught from the events that had transpired. The guilt she felt had been all to plain to see in her dark eyes as she pleaded with Clara. 

Not that there had ever been any doubt in Clara’s mind as to what she would do, not after hearing the words Doctor and hurt in the same sentence. And even if there had been, Bill’s next words would have erased it completely.

_‘I- I think he is scared.’_

She hadn’t looked back as she stepped through those familiar blue doors and into the welcoming console room, ignoring Ashildr’s accusatory words about this being dangerous and reckless and generally a very bad idea.

She hadn’t cared a bit about Ashildr’s warnings, nor about whether the Doctor had found a way to restore his memory or still couldn’t remember her. She just needed to see him. 

‘Doctor,’ Clara tried again, shifting as close as possible without touching him. 

‘I know you are afraid. But it’s okay, Doctor, it’s okay to be scared. Because,’ her voice faltered a little as memories of a similar speech given to a much younger Doctor surfaced and brought with them a heavy feeling in her chest. 

‘because fear can bring us together, Doctor.’ 

Her words finally roused a reaction from him as he lifted his head. 

‘Fear can bring us home.’

His hand rose toward her, but then hesitated, unsure, and she guided him those last few centimeters until his fingers curled behind her jaw and his thumb ran over her cheek, wiping away her tear. 

It was his turn to smile sadly. 

‘Always so wise, Clara Oswald. Whatever did I do to deserve you?’

For the first time since she had stepped out of the TARDIS, Clara gazed properly at him, her eyes taking in the new lines that had appeared on his face, the slightly more silver hair and the deep sadness portrayed in his smile. Signs that he had lived, grown older, laughed and cried and raged. But his eyes, those deep blue eyes that could hide all the pain of the universe, remained hidden themselves behind his sonic sunglasses. 

Hardly daring to speak as she did not trust her voice not to betray the swell of emotions inside her, Clara lifted his dark shades as tenderly as she could and set them safely down on his desk. 

Instinctively, the Doctor closed his eyes when he felt Clara’s hands brush his temples.

Straightening herself up on her knees, Clara cupped his face with both of her hands. 

‘Why won’t you let me see your eyes?’ she asked gently. 

She could feel him hesitate for a brief moment before answering. 

‘I can remember your smile, Clara. But now that I have you back, even if I open my eyes, I still won’t be able to see it.’

The smallest of smiles continued to grace his lips and it was the saddest smile she had ever seen. She could practically hear her heart shatter for the lonely man that sat in front of her. Her Doctor. 

Words that she had read long ago in Ashildr’s diaries came to her as she watched him, and while she had felt the sorrow etched in the paper by the dark ink, she hadn’t been able to fully comprehend it at the time. Now however, Clara knew exactly how the younger woman had felt when she wrote those words:

_I returned to find an old man who smiles and thinks I am a dream. I am flesh and blood, my love, but all you see is a ghost._

Her Doctor, her handsome, adventurous, full of never ending energy Doctor. Such a contrast to the man who sat in front of her tenderly tracing her cheekbone as if he was holding the frailest of flowers. 

This couldn’t go on. She wouldn’t stand for it. She would find a way, they would find a way to restore his eyesight. They had to. Now that she was here, she would not leave him again. He needed her, now more than ever. 

‘Doctor,’ Clara whispered, turning her face a little so that she could brush a kiss against the palm of his hand, anything to help reassure him that she was real, ‘I’m here, really here. And I won’t ever leave you again. We’re going to find a way to restore your eyesight, you and I. You’re no longer alone.’

Slowly, so as not to startle him, she brushed his nose with hers, her hands sliding back to tangle in the long silver curls behind his ears. 

‘Do you trust me?’ 

His answer was strong and sure, and immediately sounded more like the Time Lord she knew: 

‘Always.’

Clara smiled, pressing her mouth to his so that he could feel it. 

It took him a moment, but gradually his initial shock abated and he responded, at first mirroring her smile, not seen but felt, and then tentatively pressing his lips to hers in something that was more than a simple touch, though not quite a kiss either. A shy offering, one she immediately accepted, smiling once more. And this time it was her turn to press a proper kiss to his lips, long and slow and full of unspoken promises. 

When they broke apart, Clara opened her eyes to find the Doctor’s milky eyes gazing down at her. Even though his sightless eyes couldn’t meet hers, she got the feeling that somehow, he was able to properly see her as his smile widened to form that bright, blissful smile she loved and knew was reserved just for her. 

To her, he had never looked so beautiful than right in that instance with his silver curls falling over his forehead, crinkled eyes and toothy smile. 

She kissed him again and he pulled her closer until she was forced to climb up in his chair with him as he wrapped his arms tightly around her with every intention of never letting go. 

They knew that things would be alright, as long as they had each other. 

_Fin_


End file.
